


better than all the water in lethe

by emi_rose



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Amnesia, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, False Identity, False Memories, M/M, Psychological Horror, Unreliable Narrator, i the author am aware that rape is bad, kalen does not, mmkay?, mostly due to the aforementioned false identity and memories, on account of him being A Bad Dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 09:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emi_rose/pseuds/emi_rose
Summary: magnus doesn't remember kalen. kalen has a fake identity and magnus's brain is all too happy to fill in the blanks.





	better than all the water in lethe

**Author's Note:**

> this is absolutely dubious consent bordering on noncon. i am aware this is fucked up, please do not read it if you're not in a place where you can cope with that. be good to yourselves~

The shower drumming on the tile fades away into white noise as Magnus sinks deep into his reminiscences. The sound reminds him of the steady quiet beating of the rain on his roof - not his roof, Richard's roof - in the aftermath of Julia's funeral. He barely remembers the event itself, as if he's walled it off beyond a protective layer, but the aftermath is more accessible, and it surfaces whenever he lets his mind quiet, a kaleidoscope of grief and pain. It feels unreal, still, years later, and the memories have a sheen of disbelief to them that he can never seem to shake. 

He remembers: the flowers on her coffin, lilies with a color that is never clear no matter how hard he tries to think of them.

He remembers: seeing her waxy face, all wrong, maybe sleeping, coffin lid barely hiding the carnage wreaked by the firebombs that fell.

He remembers: Governor Richard shaking his hand, expressing his genuine sorrow in liquid dark eyes, offering him a place to stay and something more as the city rebuilds after the rebels' attack.

Magnus sits up with a start, tries to shake the memories off. The shower's off now, but Richard's still in the bathroom, and he reminds himself that this is normal and he is lucky to have a boyfriend who loves him, despite everything. He is lucky that anyone stays with him at all. After all, he's been abandoned by everyone, his reputation precedes him, and he would be entirely alone if it weren't for Richard taking pity on him.

He wanders into the hallway of his house and picks up photos of smiling faces that he can't place, at least, not today. He doesn't bother to question why they're here, just gathers them up and puts them in a cabinet that makes itself convenient. He fills the dog bowls, heads to bed, and waits for his lover to join him.

When he comes out of the bathroom, clean-shaven, smelling of suds and pine, Richard joins Magnus in bed, laying next to him with something inscrutable writ on his face, frissons of electricity crackling wherever their bodies touch. He lets the towel drop from around his waist, revealing his erection. Richard strokes himself almost absentmindedly, and Magnus feels a twinge of something wrong crawl up his neck before just as quickly shaking it off. He notices his own dick, hard against his thigh. 

Before he can think, Magnus finds himself between Richard’s legs, dick in his mouth, barely registering the bitter and salt that tastes like a home he's forgotten how to remember. He blinks, and he's on his hands and knees, ass presented the way Richard likes it, even though he didn't remember knowing. Then he's stretched and filled and filled again. Richard swears and fucks him harder. It feels unreal, static around the edges. He doesn't remember much after that.

###

Despite the saltwater stains caking everything he wears, Magnus is inundated with dogs the second he opens his front door. All of Raven’s Roost is treated to the chorus -- Magnus thanks his lucky stars that he’s arrived at the relatively reasonable hour of 8 AM this time. He laughs, revels in their affection, and slowly disentangles himself in the general direction of his bedroom, where he can unpack his adventuring gear directly into a closet and himself directly into a shower.

After feeding and corralling the dogs for the day’s training, he stands in the kitchen and brews a cup of oolong tea, the way he has for decades. He considers getting rid of the fantasy Mr. Coffee he only uses once in a blue moon. He makes a note to buy the good milk and extra muffins next time he makes the trek to Fantasy Costco, which he really should do before Lucretia comes by next week.

Duly caffeinated, showered, and technically not that late, Magnus arrives at the Hammer and Tails to start the day’s work. 

###

Magnus sits bolt upright, jarred out of sleep by a persistent, panicked knocking at his back door. The dogs hear it too, Johann launching himself off of Magnus's feet and joining in the chorus of perturbed and excited dogs. He supposes that they're doing half of their job as guard dogs, waking him up and making a racket. And it's probably his fault that their reaction to someone unfamiliar is to try and befriend them. 

The first thing that Magnus registers about the man leaning on the doorframe is the sharp metallic tang of blood that rolls off him in waves. He whistles the dogs to heel, and there's a smattering of whines as they obey despite their instincts. Johann growls at the man and Magnus snaps his fingers, shushing him. 

"Are you hurt?" Magnus asks.

The man shakes his head. He moves into the light, and there's something profoundly strange about this man, like Magnus can't conceive of him properly. He can't shake the feeling, the sense of déjà vu and jamais vu, and something is on the tip of his tongue but he brushes it aside because it's cold, and the man says he's not hurt, but he's covered in blood and Magnus has manners, after all. 

Something is staticky around this man's edges, something that Magnus can't grasp, something that flows through his fingers like sand when he tries to hold it. Despite his misgivings, he forges ahead. The man cocks his head and looks through him.

Everything that was fuzzy and indistinct, like voices heard from two rooms over, faces seen through frosted glass, snaps into perfect resonant clarity. Magnus is overwhelmed with concern and another emotion he can’t quite place, but sets aside. Rustic hospitality is his default, after all.

“Richard?” Magnus asks, surprisingly sure of the answer.

He nods, pain and blood scrawled all over him, like he got in a fight with a blood bank and lost.  
"Come in, please," Magnus says, gesturing to his kitchen. He smiles, radiating pure uncomplicated welcome. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Are you sure you aren't hurt?"

"I'm -" Richard winces theatrically. 

Magnus reaches for him, wraps an arm easily around his waist, and helps him in, aiming for the nearest cozy living room chair. Their eyes meet for a moment and it's a jolt through Magnus's spine but he stays steady and helps his ex into the house. It's not the most bizarre reunion he's had with an ex, he supposes. 

Magnus kneels down next to the arm of the chair, brow knitted with concern. "Are you bleeding?" He takes Richard’s well-manicured hand, marred with dried blood, and turns it over, idly tracing the creases of his palm. 

"No, no, I'm fine," Richard says, and Magnus is inclined to believe him. "Just some bruises, I think."

"It's good to see you again," Magnus finds himself saying, mouth forming words his brain hasn't had a chance to put together. 

Richard smiles, showing his first molars. "Sorry for barging in, but there's no one else I could think of." He pauses, shifting in the seat, and cups Magnus's cheek, stroking the line of his cheekbone with his thumb, leaving flecks of dried blood in its wake.

"I'm...flattered," Magnus says, and he is.

"For old times' sake?" Richard says, eyes trained on Magnus's mouth. His tongue flicks out to moisten his lips.

Magnus can't refuse - has no desire to refuse - is pulled towards him by a gravity that he can't explain - can't help but give in to. This is what he'd been missing all along.

Richard kisses him hard on the mouth, tongue pushing between Magnus's pliant lips, tasting of salt and sharp iron.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to tara and kith for encouraging this challenge, to vesper for the og story/prompt that inspired this, and to tfw for being so ferally enthusiastic. title is from "the scarlet woman" by fenton johnson.
> 
> find me on tumblr @emi--rose, and leave a comment and a kudos if you liked!


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